


To Show That Here Is Home

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Case, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang, M/M, Road Trips, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Something is wrong with Cas. Dean sees it in each masked expression and hears it in every unfinished sentence between them. And no matter what he tries he never gets his words out right to ask. But this case involving days on the road and nights in motels means there has to be a moment where they can really talk alone. So why can he still not find what he needs to say to Cas?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :)
> 
> Here's our contribution to the 2018 Dean/Cas Reverse Bang. It's set, sort of, in season 13 after Cas has returned. This story was inspired by the amazing artwork of Akobel; thank you for giving me something so beautiful to work from! 
> 
> Thanks also go to @woahthisguy for beta-ing <3

  


Art by [Akobel](https://akobel.tumblr.com/)

* * *

There's something not right with Cas.

It's not that he's not himself; Dean's more careful than ever now to make sure Cas really _is_ Cas, monitoring his every nuance and expression almost to a fault at times. Sometimes even to the point where Sam gives him a _look_ that warns Dean he's noticed him doing it and immediately reminds him without saying a word to _back off._

It's not that he's keeping things from them either, Dean adds to himself as he watches Cas. He’s sat across from him at a library table turning page after page of a text he's been looking at, but Dean thinks he's not read a word of in over an hour. Well, maybe he _is_ keeping something from them, Dean thinks as he watches yet another page turn, keeping something from _him_ at least, though not in any way Dean thinks will lead to anything terrible. He gets the impression that it's more of a secret that Cas intends to deal with and keep to himself.

"You okay, Cas?" Dean asks, a little gruffer than intended for all these _thoughts_ that keep circling around in his head.

Cas lifts his head slowly, fingers pinching a page and pausing mid-turn, fixing Dean with a gaze that always leaves him feeling like the room's been sucked of all air. "Of course."

"You sure?" Dean asks, gesturing at the book, "because I've been watching you for almost a half hour now. And you haven't—"

"Why are you watching me?"

"Cas," Dean says, shifting in discomfort for the slight narrowing of Cas' eyes, "you're sat here with me. And you're not saying a _word_ to me. And I'm damn sure you don't even know what it is you're reading."

Cas goes to close the book to check its title on the front cover, but Dean reaches out and stops him, closing the book around his finger and raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Talk to me, Cas."

Cas stares back at him, unblinking, leaving Dean feeling like he's trying to pluck thoughts from his mind.

"It's nothing," Cas says, which means there's definitely a _something_ , the very thought making Dean's heart give a thud in fear

"But—"

"I need to go," Cas adds, standing gracefully and tucking the chair back beneath the table, turning away apparently with no intention of saying another word.

"Cas—"

"I'll call you," Cas tells him with a soft smile that Dean thinks is wistful.

"Cas," Dean calls out, standing to join him, and immediately feeling lost for words. He always gets like this when he's got Cas in close proximity, Dean curses at himself. Always stumbles over all the things he's rehearsed saying a hundred times over, and never managed to get out.

"Dean?"

Dean's stomach knots knowing this time will be no different to any other, and he won't get out what he's intending. He sighs, takes a breath to clear his head, and smiles. "Just… go careful, okay? Whatever you're doing. Wherever you're going. Maybe check in when you get there."

He forces himself not to ask where he's going, not to come across like he's checking up on him, or needy for Cas' contact, even though both things are true.

"I'm going to visit Claire," Cas replies, smiling, though there's a hint of a frown that says he's confused, and now Dean feels foolish and doesn't know where to look to hide it.

"Awesome," he says, nodding, and gripping at the back of his neck to squeeze as he needlessly pulls his cell phone from his pocket, just to give his hands something to do. "That's awesome. I'm sure you've got a lot to catch up on with her after—well, after everything."

Cas' expression fogs over for a few seconds before he can rein it in, but then he's nodding, and Dean scrambles for at least a few words that might keep him from leaving. Chides himself for both being selfish and incapable of uttering the simple word _stay_.

"Wait, Cas—"

"You said that you would leave for this case tomorrow, correct?" Cas says, still smiling back at him with that curious frown.

"Well, yeah. I mean, we gotta pick up some supplies first, so it'll be sometime in the afternoon. And Sam's working through this text he thinks is gonna help—"

"I will be back long before then, Dean. Much sooner. I was planning on coming with you if—"

"Yes," Dean blurts out, smiling unconsciously wide already, relief beginning to trickle through his chest. "Yeah, Cas, that'd be great. Could use your help."

"You mean, you could use an additional person to _complain_ to about witches," Cas replies with laughter that crinkles up his eyes, and Dean decides it's more in affection than teasing.

"That too."

"I'll be back soon," Cas tells him, staring back for another moment, opening his mouth to say something else, just as Sam joins them in the library.

"Hey. You're leaving?" Sam asks in surprise, coming to a stop by Dean's side.

"Only briefly."

"But you're coming tomorrow. Right?" Sam insists, his eyes darting between Dean and Cas and back again with a little doubt. Dean bristles for it, but can't particularly pinpoint why.

"I am," Cas says, a little absently as he reaches into a pocket for his cell phone, instantly smiling at the screen. "Apparently, Claire _needs_ me to bring donuts. Lots of them."

"There's a Dunkin' Donuts kind of on route if you're going straight from here," Dean tells him, already pulling up a mental map.

"I think I know the place," Cas replies, smiling and looking at them both in turn. "In fact, I am sure it is somewhere Claire insisted on driving me to as soon as she got her license."

Dean tries not to smile too hard for remembering Cas' call to him once he'd left Jody's telling him about that visit. That, despite being an angel, Claire's driving had made him fear for his life.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sam says with a smile of his own, and together he and Dean watch Cas as he walks out.

There is a slap to his arm that gets Dean's attention the moment they hear the door close, and he looks down to where Sam's pressing against him with the edge of a book.

"What?"

"Told you," Sam says with a smile that is smug, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Told me what?"

"That you're worrying over nothing?" Sam replies with a snort. "About Cas? _Told_ you he'd come with."

Dean sighs at the second pat against him before listening to Sam walk away from him as well, and starts planning a list of things to keep him busy in Cas' absence, telling himself he's worrying over nothing.

* * *

It's so _good_ to have Cas here, Dean thinks, watching him with Sam as they settle at a diner table, just taking a moment before joining them to fill up with gas. The entire time Cas had been gone Dean had convinced himself he'd forgotten how to breathe. His days were filled with images of Cas leaving him repeatedly a hundred ways over, and his nights a constant replay of all his regrets. Regrets about _Cas_ anyway, Dean thinks, smiling to himself as he sees Sam throw his head back with laughter at something Cas has probably said.

Cas doesn't realize the impact he's had on them half the time, Dean's sure he doesn't. That he can stand here and get lost watching the easy way Sam and Cas are talking while unable to hear a single word, speaks volumes about how much Cas is an integral part of them. And that anyone they know, who in turn knows Cas, always asks about him when he isn't there with them speaks of what an impact he's had on their worlds as well. Dean wishes he found the words easier to let him know about it, to help Cas realize how much he belongs.

But Cas, Dean knows, has struggled a lot with self-worth, so might not even hear him if he _could_ find the words. He's been watching Cas carefully ever since he came back to them, even harder than he'd done half the time before. Cas is good, and whole, and settled in the world with them despite all the difficulties they face, but Dean keeps catching these glimpses of something missing for Cas in _his_ inner world.

He should just ask him, in fact, he's tried to ask him; Dean's plucked up the courage to talk to Cas about that slight doubt around his eyes several times now, only to be gently dismissed. He wishes he had the words to make it easier for Cas to _talk_ to him, but when he barely knows the right thing to say himself so much of the time, Dean is at a total loss.

He should also probably join them, Dean thinks, instead of standing here gawking, paying for his gas and quickly heading into the diner. Cas smiles as he walks towards him and it puts Dean at ease; a feeling he's been aware of for some time now, but has only recently come to acknowledge as much as he does. He slides in beside Sam, who is already complaining that he's taking up too much room, and leans across him for a menu.

"Let me guess," Sam says, reaching out to flick at the corner of the menu and smiling as it pings back at Dean, "burger, fries, coffee? Just for a change."

"My cholesterol is just _fine_ , Sammy," Dean retorts half-heartedly, his eyes already sweeping over the menu and pretending to find something _different_ to eat. But Cas' eyes are dancing with mirth when he glances up, and though Dean's not quite sure of the reason for it, he throws the menu back down against the table and swivels in his seat to look at the specials board.

"Actually," he says, spinning back around after making a snap decision, "I'm going with Wisconsin cheese soup. With extra bacon."

"You can't just tell them to—"

"It's my soup. I've been driving and talking and getting no answers for hours. I'll do whatever the hell I want. And what are you getting," Dean asks with a derisive snort, "something fat and flavor-free?"

" _Actually_ ," Sam says, mimicking his own tone as he too turns to look at the board, "I'll have chicken dumpling."

Dean smiles at that, remembering an eleven-year-old Sam attempting to pick up dumplings with chopsticks, and failing hard. "Cas? What are you having?"

"Just coffee."

"Nothing else?"

"No."

"C'mon, Cas. Gotta be _some_ molecules you still like the taste of," he teases, and Cas echoes his smile, possibly remembering what Dean's thinking about, involving a stop for ice cream and all the toppings he'd insisted on trying before complaining that his mouth tasted too sweet.

It's a memory from a completely different age, Dean thinks, smiling at the thought of all that's passed between them since. But he schools it in, both the happy memories and the sad ones, struck again out of nowhere by just how well Cas _fits_ here with them.

He should really tell him that, probably say out loud how bad it had been without him. How much it had hurt to see his body go up in flames on that pyre, and being certain that he was never coming back. Dean closes his eyes to the memory, thankful for the distraction of someone taking their order. Then opens them again to find Cas watching him curiously and fights for a change of subject.

"So. This case. We're… first town was a bust," he says, willing the waitress to come back with their coffee quickly so he's at least got something to put in his hands.

"Yeah," Sam scoffs, "nine witnesses who didn't see a single thing? When these supposed sacrifices happened right under their noses?"

Dean grimaces at the images still fresh in his mind, the trail they're following of an alleged witch using an ancient form of blood magic to boost her own powers not currently giving them much of anything.

This is the second town they've stopped in following whispers of witchcraft, and it seems there is just as little to go on here in Madison as there was on that first stop in Champaign. How people can be so oblivious to their friends, families, and neighbors going missing and be so clueless about the events of the hours they were missing infuriates Dean a little. If he lived in one place for any set length of time aside from the bunker, he'd be forever annoying everyone, checking up on all the people he cared about either in person or over the phone, just to make sure they were doing okay.

"Beats me," he says in belated answer to Sam's question, "but I guess we've done everything we can here. We might as well get an early start tomorrow."

"Where's the next place?"

"Casselton. Just outside of Fargo in North Dakota. News report says a kid of seventeen and some lab technician got drained this time."

"So that's, what, maybe eight hours from here?" Sam asks, and Dean hums in agreement around a mouthful of coffee, watching as the waitress tops off Cas' own after he takes three quick gulps and gestures for more.

"Then you should rest," Cas tells him, staring over the lip of his cup apparently daring Dean to disagree.

"That's why I said about an early start," Dean replies, raising an eyebrow at both of them for fussing. "We'll finish up here, go back to the motel. Sleep some."

"Good," Sam says, yawning as he pushes back against the table and complains when Dean shoves against his leg.

"You're staying… right?" Dean asks Cas, only allowing himself a quick glimpse to check he's listening. Maybe if they get a little time to talk, he can finally work out what is getting to Cas.

Cas nods in agreement, staring back at Dean as though he's reading his thoughts, offering up that small, bittersweet smile that always puts a clench in Dean's stomach.

* * *

"What're you looking at Cas?"

Sometimes, and more so since they got Cas back, Dean's found Cas stood quietly by himself either looking up at the sky or gazing out over the horizon seeming at utter peace with himself. It's a beautiful thing to see; for so long Cas has seemed like he felt like he didn't belong here, or anywhere at all. The small, blissful smile on his face as he turns to look at Dean now says otherwise, says Cas truly knows where he's meant to be.

"It is a beautiful view," Cas tells him, gesturing in front of them for Dean to look.

It's not much. They've stopped for more gas, and to the rear of the small station there are sprawling fields, both lush green and cracked brown in places, with a couple of people tending to those fields in the distance to their right. The sky overhead is mostly clear aside from some thin, wispy clouds Dean thinks look a little like a camel, and aside from the occasional car passing behind them, everything is quiet.

But for Cas, who has seen the formation of entire continents, witnessed the destruction of cities and the birth of stars, _this_ view is beautiful. Cas looks in awe of the landscape around them, and Dean wishes he could be like this, see magnificence in everything his gaze touches.

"Well, sure—"

"It is beautiful because it is simple. It is beautiful because it is ordinary and uncomplicated. There is no hidden agenda or master plan. It just _is_."

Dean has no idea what to make of that so gives a noncommittal hum in answer.

"It is home," Cas adds, his lips twitching up just a little more, "it is _my_ home. And for the first time in a very, very long time, I _know_ that it is my home."

Dean thinks about that, thinks of all the times Cas has seemed unsettled, the countless times he's needed the reassurance of where he belongs. He's not _given_ that reassurance though, not often enough. Dean steps a little closer so that there is barely any space between them, and turns to look at the view with Cas.

"Well. I know you _know_ that this is home, but… you know the bunker's your home too, right? I mean, I know we're always _somewhere_ for hunting, but… you know your home's with us. Right, Cas?"

Cas stares back at him unblinking for a moment until his gaze drops to Dean's chest, where Dean's fairly sure he's hearing the erratic beating of his heart. Why he has to get so worked up over saying something so truthful, and uncomplicated, Dean doesn't know. But when Cas looks up again he's smiling a little softer, so Dean smiles his way through feeling awkward and waits for Cas to answer.

"I do, Dean. I do," Cas says, "though it is… _good_ , to hear that—"

"Hey. There you both are."

Dean tells himself he is _not_ holding back a growl of frustration for Sam's interruption since he can't know if this was a moment that Cas was choosing to _talk_. But he knows his smile is uneasy and false when he turns to look at Sam, because his eyes grow a little wider in surprise for receiving it. He gestures as though he'll make himself scarce again but Cas is already turning, letting out a small, resigned sigh.

"We should go," Cas says, nodding at them both before walking away and heading for the Impala. Though he squeezes Dean's arm in passing, and Dean looks down at the gesture even after he's gone, pleading with himself to find an easier way to talk to Cas when they're alone.

"C'mon," he says, slapping Sam on the shoulder and nodding for him to follow.

* * *

 

  
  
 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Thanks, Cas."

Dean comes to a stop outside the motel room with beer tucked under one arm and two pizza boxes gripped in his other hand, hearing Sam sigh in relief through the small open window next to the room's door.

"You're welcome."

"How many times have you patched us up now?" Sam laughs, his voice a little muffled. Dean assumes he must be throwing on a shirt, or changing, or doing… whatever Sam is doing.

"More than I can count. More than I wish I had to," Cas replies, and the concern in his voice makes Dean smile before chiding himself for listening in on their conversation yet still doing it anyway.

"Thanks for coming with us on this, Cas," Sam says then, and Dean imagines him turning to face him.

"I'm glad I could help. Though I'm not sure any of us feel that we are doing much  _helping_ currently."

"It's not about you helping," Sam tells him. "It's… I'm just glad you're here, okay? It's good to have you with us; even if it is on a literal witch hunt."

"Either way. I'm glad I am here."

"So am I," Sam says with a sigh. "And I promise. Someday you, me, and Dean are gonna go on a road trip like this that's about something more than  _hunting_. Just 'cos we can."

It sounds ideal, Dean thinks, imagining the three of them on an open highway with the wind whipping in through the windows and not a care in the world.

"I look forward to it," Cas replies, and Dean echoes the smile in his voice.

"Cas," Sam says, the tone of his voice shifting, "I don't know if I've told you enough, or not… made it clear enough, but I… I'm so glad you're back. I mean, I know you've been back a little while now, but—"

"Sam?"

"I mean," Sam says, and Dean hears him moving in that way he does when he's not sure what to say, "when you were…  _gone_ , it was… we thought we'd lost you for good this time. And it was… it was hard—on all of us. But especially on Dean."

Dean's tempted to walk in right now, to stop this conversation before it gets any further, but the tone of Cas' response of,  _I know_ roots him to the spot.

"He was… he scared me for a while, Cas," Sam adds, and if that doesn't well up guilt for Dean that he's been suppressing. "He was… I couldn't do anything to help."

"I am sorry—"

"You don't need to apologize, Cas," Sam tells him with a burst of soft laughter. "I just… I don't know how much you guys have talked about it."

"Not too much," Cas admits, and that's the underlying concern Dean has about Cas not talking to him enough. He can't know how things were for Cas when he was in the Empty when he won't talk about it. And Dean's been aware for years how much Cas has been suffering with a lack of self-worth even if he's never said it out loud. But every time he's tried to force the conversation since he got Cas back, something stops him, the words don't come out right, and more often than not Cas finds excuses not to answer him.

If Cas talks to Sam about this now instead of him, Dean thinks he might do something stupid, like cry.

"I know neither of you is all that good at talking," Sam adds, and Dean scowls for it. Who is Sam to talk, he who is forever telling everyone else to talk about  _their_ feelings yet conveniently manages never to be truthful about his own?

"No, we aren't," Cas replies sounding guarded, and Dean scolds himself for being relieved.

"But you two… I think there are still some things you could both probably do with talking about," Sam tells him.

Silence follows, and Dean can tell the atmosphere in there must be getting awkward, so decides it's the perfect opportunity to barge in before they can do any more  _talking_.

"So," he says, shoving the door open and finding Cas and Sam hovering uncertainly, "I need to check you over, or what?"

"Dean. I'm fine," Sam says with a guilty glance in Cas' direction, "I—"

"I fixed it," Cas tells him, and Dean watches as Cas takes off his trench coat, hanging it carefully on the back of the door. It means he's staying again, Dean thinks, telling himself both that he's selfish for wanting him to, and that he's an idiot for even thinking he might not.

"Only _you_ would fall into poison ivy and roll over in it," Dean says to Sam, groaning at the memory of Sam flailing around trying to right himself earlier just as they'd finished interviewing witnesses and being too doubled over in laughter to do anything to help.

"Yeah, well—"

"Anyway. You're not gonna drain yourself of juice patching us up all the time, huh, Cas?" Dean asks, with further relief hitting when Cas takes off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.

"No."

"Sam used to make a beeline for poison ivy when he was a kid, I swear," Dean adds, snorting at Sam's indignant glare, even if he says it just to stop himself staring at bared forearms.

"Did Dean tell you that the last time we were here in Des Moines, when we were on a  _case_ , looking into this murder at a museum—"

" _Gavin_ was there," Dean adds as he uncaps three beer bottles and slides two of them across the table.

"Crowley's son?" Cas asks, carefully sliding out a slice of pizza and taking a bite.

"Yeah."

"Anyway," Sam says, looking between the two of them in amusement, "did he tell you he tried to find an excuse for us to try finding Corey Taylor's house?"

Dean chokes on his beer and glares at Sam over the top of it, the glare dropping a little as Cas sighs heavily and put-upon, and scoots around the table to slap his back as he coughs.

"Yes, he did," Cas replies once he's checked Dean is okay and still breathing, picking up his pizza slice and pausing before taking another bite. "Dean sang me three songs of his—"

"I—"

"Although," Cas says, frowning as he rearranges a piece of red bell pepper that's about to slide off, "the last one was more of a scream than singing."

" _Slipknot_ , man," Dean protests, and doesn't know what to do with the affectionate smile from Cas, or the bemused one he receives from Sam.

"Distinctly  _not_ Led Zeppelin."

"Cas—"

"In any case," Cas continues as he chews thoughtfully, "I am… _thankful_ , that none of those…  _songs_ appeared on my mixtape."

Dean freezes at Sam's snorted out  _aww_ and glares at him again, shoving almost half a slice of pizza in his mouth in one go to stop himself saying something in retaliation.

"Anyway," Sam says, carefully avoiding his eyes, "this case—"

"You really wanna talk about this over  _pizza_?" Dean protests, wolfing down another slice in a couple of bites just in case Sam goes into any detail that right now, he really doesn't want to hear.

"Doesn't usually stop you—"

"Yeah, well, it's stopping me today, okay?" Dean retorts. There is no reason for him to be snapping at Sam, but with the images of the latest victims still lodged in his mind and the case being nowhere near resolved, and an insistent lump in his throat for overhearing Sam and Cas talk without him, Dean is tired of it all. He wants pizza, and beer, and an easy conversation with his two favorite people, and to push  _hunting_ to one side for a couple of hours.

Cas raises an eyebrow as though he disapproves of Dean's tone, and it makes Dean gulp back a couple of mouthfuls of beer before he can look at him again, receiving a slightly exasperated smile that he decides makes him feel marginally better.

* * *

" _Dammit._ "

Dean eases his foot off the gas pedal and checks the rearview, pulling the Impala to the side of the road with a frustrated groan.

"Tire's blown?" Sam says blearily, his voice muffled for being turned into the seat as he sleeps, sitting up with loud yawn and stretch.

"Yeah," Dean replies, pushing back in his seat and stretching a little himself before reaching for the door handle and climbing out the car. It's bad, whatever they've driven over, because the tire is already flat, with a gash through it a couple of inches wide.

Dean glances around him, thinks he sees a small gas station that's in walkable distance off to their side, and points it out as both Sam and Cas climb out.

"Want some help?" Sam asks, already pushing up his sleeves.

"Why don't you go get us something?" Dean says, nodding towards the gas station again.

"Okay. Anything in particular?"

"Crappy coffee. Hot dog. Pie?"

"Got it."

Dean watches Sam walk away then turns to Cas and smiles. "Ever changed a tire, Cas?"

"You know that I have," Cas retorts with an even wider smile, "in fact, you have  _assisted_ me in changing one on two occasions. Or should I say,  _instructed_ me."

Dean's smile becomes private for remembering a rain-soaked road and a good-natured argument about axles, and tire irons, and where wasn't an appropriate place to change a tire on the side of the road. Cas had been a quick study, following his instruction meticulously, before standing up with a proud set of his shoulders and a triumphant smile on his face.

"You did good, Cas."

"I did," Cas agrees, launching another memory for Dean of that second tire change. In a motel parking lot in less amiable conditions, when Cas was grumpy, and the tire change wasn't going right, and Dean had Cas to himself for a couple of hours.

"How's the truck doing?" Dean asks as he walks around to the trunk still smiling at that memory and reminding himself to check the truck over when they have put this case to bed.

"Fine," Cas replies as he joins him, holding his hand out as Dean begins searching for what he needs to change the tire. "I check the tire pressure regularly, and the oil is at the exact point you always insist on."

"Gotta look after these things," Dean teases with a smile as he pulls out the spare tire, and moves back around the side of the car. "Wanna pass me the car jack?"

Cas raises an eyebrow, keeping eye contact as he lifts the back of the car effortlessly with one hand, and nods for Dean to begin work. "How much further to the next location?"

"Not far," Dean replies as he sinks to his knees, taking the wrench Cas passes him and getting himself settled, "maybe another five miles? You sure you've got a grip on that?"

Dean looks up to catch Cas' indignant glare and hides his smile in a snort, working out the lug nuts and grunting when one feels particularly stiff.

"Do you want some  _help_ with that, Dean?"

Dean laughs a little harder, and this time when he looks up it's to see Cas' smile curling up a little smug. Dean bats away the offer as Cas gestures with a twist of his fingers, and lets out a,  _see_? when the final nut comes loose.

"Are you still... annoyed?" Cas adds, and it drops Dean's smile a little, though he nods to Cas to brace as he pulls the tire off.

"Nope. Not annoyed, Cas."

"You were... snappy."

Dean narrows his eyes and tells himself he's focusing on the tire, instead of going over the last interview they had in searching for their witch. It's not Cas' fault he attracted the attention of the bookkeeper who had found the latest body, nor really the bookkeeper's fault that he couldn't keep his eyes off Cas. But it had filled Dean with a sense of misplaced jealousy that left him raging at everyone. Stamping his way out of the small office where they'd had the interview in an attempt to disguise it, and barely looking up when Cas had joined him at the Impala.

"I didn't mean to be  _snappy_ ," Dean replies, concentrating even harder as he positions the new tire.

"Dean—"

"The guy was practically humping your leg, Cas."

He doesn't mean to blurt it out like that, and Dean is sure Cas' eyes are drawn to the blush that creeps up his neck as a result. But he doesn't let himself look up to confirm it until the tire is secure. He gives another squeeze just to make sure it's okay before nodding for Cas to let the car down.

"I don't think that—"

"Not literally," Dean amends as he stands, returning the wrench back to the trunk and stowing the tire in there as well, planning to pick another one up as soon as he can. "But I—"

"We are working a case. It is hardly the time to—"

"Cas," Dean says, cutting him off and waving away his words in dismissal. "It's fine. Okay? I didn't mean to snap. I'm sorry."

Cas looks at him seeming exasperated, but Dean can't bring himself to talk about this. Doesn't want to admit the tailspin it puts him in every time someone  _notices_ Cas, knowing it's stupid, yet feels unable to stop. He pulls his phone from his pocket and waves it, intent on calling Sam. "Anything else you feel like?"

"If we are only five miles from our next—"

"Figured we could maybe stream something, or... I don't know. Find something to watch tonight," Dean says, gesturing for them to get back in the car. "Maybe get some take out. Eat later. Get something to tide us over for now."

"I am... not staying in the same room as Sam if you order burritos," Cas replies as he settles in his seat. "He produces smells that are... inhuman, Dean."

Dean bursts out laughing, watching the way Cas' face lights up as he does, and tells himself he's not relieved yet again that Cas has no intention of leaving them.

Cas nods at the window then, and Dean spots Sam coming towards them, starting the engine so they can leave the second Sam gets in.

* * *

"Well, that was a waste of time," Dean says as he walks into the motel they've booked for the night, throwing his keys down on the nightstand and dumping his bag on a nearby chair.

"Maybe we'll figure out some new witnesses to speak to tomorrow," Sam replies as he follows him, his bag still slung over his shoulder and standing awkwardly next to the open door. They've been following the trail of this witch for more than a week now, gone through more states than Dean wants to acknowledge in that stretch of time, even finding a couple of hours to stop in and see Jody and everyone when their witch's route threw an almost-one-eighty at them. Fort Dodge was probably the most gruesome place they've visited trying to track the witch down, finding six bodies exsanguinated, and not a tangible clue in sight. They've been to six locations before this one and are currently in Emporia, making Dean a little wistful for the proximity to the bunker, and wishing for  _home_.

"Yeah, well, maybe we will. But after three people basically told me  _nothing_ , and a fourth tried to sell me  _health insurance_ , I'm not thinking anyone here knows much of anything at all," Dean retorts. He feels Cas' eyes on him as he shrugs out of his jacket, unknotting his tie and sighing in relief when he can pop his top shirt button open.

"Perhaps we should have waited until you were rested," Cas says, still watching as Dean unzips his bag and pulls out a change of clothes. "Your head—"

"Is better," Dean says, reaching out and clasping his hand around Cas' fingers as he reaches towards him to relieve him of his headache.

"But—"

"It's _fine_ , Cas," Dean says a little more insistently, squeezing his fingers before pushing him back, then waving the jeans and t-shirt in his other hand. "I'm gonna get changed."

Dean shuts himself in the bathroom before he has to hear anything else, bolting the door and groaning for being even a little short with Cas. He listens to a mumbled conversation between him and Sam and turns away from it, quickly shrugging out of the rest of his clothes.

Cas has a point though. There was nothing stopping them holing up in this motel room first and doing a little planning before interviewing anyone. They'd taken a call from another hunter with a lead in passing and had set off with barely any details at all. In fact, they should have done even just a  _little_ research before leaving the town they've just been in just outside of St Joseph, where their witch apparently got interrupted mid-spell, putting someone in the hospital rather than succeeding in doing them any permanent harm. But Sam's restless at the moment and needs to be constantly busy, for no leads on Mom, and some date that was important to Eileen that he refuses to talk about. And Dean's cranky himself for this headache caused by a lack of sleep; everything seems a little too  _much_ at the moment.

He's angry at Cas. Angry for probably all the wrong reasons, but while he's bristling with this discomfort around him, the last thing he wants to do is let him heal his headache. Dean stares himself down in the mirror going over again why he's being stupid about this. Cas had only been gone two days leaving them at one town and meeting up with them again at the next, and it's not like it's either the first or last time he's been gone without getting in touch.

But Dean had thought they were getting better, that his constant reminder for Cas to check in was finally sinking in. It's not that Cas owes him anything, or that Dean doesn't trust him, but Cas  _knows_ how much Dean worries when he doesn't keep in contact. And since they agreed that Cas wouldn't fill him in on all the details of where he was going to stop Dean  _worrying_ unnecessarily every time he leaves them, Dean has been counting down the hours in between Cas' messages, panicking more and more for the longer it takes to receive a call.

He intends to talk to Cas about it. In fact, he plans on talking to Cas about so many things that Dean's got a mental list prepared, that he's frequently reordering and would prioritize yet again if only his headache wasn't quite this bad.

Another stab of pain hits his temples, and Dean's logic for  _not_ letting Cas heal him when the painkillers he's taken haven't dulled his pain at all feels stupid. He grumbles under his breath checking his reflection quickly again, scoops up his bundle of clothes and charges out the bathroom. Dean drops the clothes on to the chair beside his bag noting Sam's already half-sprawled out on one of the beds, with Cas standing near the foot of it still in his trench coat as though he's not staying.

He  _is_ staying, Dean grumbles to himself, walking across the room and grabbing Cas by the wrist, shaping his fingers into a point and pressing them to his own temple with a defeated sigh. It's another kind of sigh entirely seconds later when he feels a pulse of Cas' grace seeping into him, both taking away the pain and settling the anxious feeling that's been in his gut ever since Cas' latest departure.

"There is a retirement home in Michigan where residents have been reporting that they are conversing with angels," Cas tells him when Dean opens his eyes. There is a soft smile waiting that says Cas knows what he's thinking, that he realizes the source of all those  _mumbles_ under Dean's breath on the way here.

"Seriously?" Sam says sounding far more interested than Dean wants to hear right now.

"They believed so, yes. Although it was no more than a former… colleague of mine."

"Doing what?" Dean snaps, loathing the idea of an angel out there doing further harm.

"Apparently, they are well-intentioned. Choosing to hear last prayers and thoughts of those soon to pass."

"I don't buy it," Dean says, and Cas' expression is also skeptical.

"I intend to return to see for myself. But currently, there seems to be no difficulty in the home. If anything, the staff report residences being more... peaceful. Settled."

"How'd you even get there, huh, Cas?" Dean demands, loathing the thought of Cas navigating unfamiliar roads hitchhiking, or stuck in bus terminals because he's got off at the wrong stop.

"There was a truck passing," Cas says and doesn't elaborate, which sets Dean panicking even more.

"Right. Well—"

"I was thinking," Sam says, ducking his head in that way he does that means he's planning on avoiding Dean's eye contact, "I might head out to that bar we passed near here."

Dean narrows his eyes at the side of Sam's head until he feels him staring and turns around. Sam's not subtle when he glances at Cas then looks back at him pointedly, and Dean barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. He walks over to the table where Sam's put down the few groceries they've bought to get them through tonight and pulls out a beer, uncapping it out of habit and passing it to Sam.

"You want a drink? Drink here," he says, waving the bottle more insistently until Sam sits up and takes it from his hand.

"I—"

"Cas," Dean says, turning to him with a cautious smile, "feel like a drive?"

"Of course," Cas replies, looking at him curiously. Dean nods and grabs his jacket, then waves for Cas to follow him out.

"So. Angels granting last wishes, huh?" Dean says as they walk towards the Impala, glancing up at the sky and wondering how long it might be before it rains.

"Apparently so. Dean—"

"This  _friend_ of yours," Dean says, stopping at the car and staring at Cas over the top of it, "they're… you trust them?"

"As much as I trust any angel," Cas replies with a small smile before he ducks into the car.

"Well," Dean says as he joins him, "the next time you go, I'll—"

"Dean. I'm sorry I didn't call. I pressed something on my cell phone," Cas adds, reaching into his trench coat pocket and pulling the offending thing out with a deeply disapproving frown. "It wouldn't let me do anything."

Dean barely holds in a burst of laughter, feeling a wave of relief rush through him as he takes the phone in his hand and works out what latest disaster Cas' mistrust of  _computers_ has caused.

"You put things on divert, Cas, and… I don't even know what else. But it's all fixed," he adds as he hands it back.

"Thank you—"

"So. Pick a direction?" Dean says as he starts the engine, checking around him before pulling out of the parking lot, smiling when Cas predictably waves right.

"I am sorry that none of the witnesses had anything of use to tell you today."

"Yeah, well. Good night's sleep and I'm sure we'll figure something out. Next location at least."

"And I hope I didn't worry you too much," Cas adds, meaning Dean has to look at him and catch his look of contrition, knowing it's been mere minutes since he gave his reason for not calling, but that he's not angry with Cas anymore. 

"No more than usual," Dean replies, raising an eyebrow and smiling so Cas knows he's not still mad.

"Dean—"

"It's okay, Cas," Dean says, rolling his shoulders and settling more comfortably. "It's… it's fine."

"Tomorrow, perhaps, we can—"

"Cas," Dean says, turning and smiling, "let's… let's leave the case for tomorrow, okay? And just… drive a while."

Cas doesn't say anything, just reaches out to pop a cassette in and adjust the volume, leaning back against the headrest with a soft, contented sigh.

It's a companionable silence they drive in for a while, occasionally pointing out various landmarks that they pass. Dean leans forward to peer up at the sky for any signs of the rain he thinks has been threatening for hours and thinks they'll drive for a few more miles, enough to work up his courage just a little more.

"You should eat," Cas says when they're a little way out, predictably saying it just seconds before Dean's stomach begins to rumble in complaint. Dean smiles to himself and keeps an eye out for the nearest place to pull into.

"You gonna eat with me?" Dean asks once they're in a diner, gesturing to the menu and tapping over a couple of choices, smiling when Cas points to only fries. The salt put on them has an  _intriguing texture_ , apparently, which means Dean monitors his expression in fascination every time he picks one up from his plate and takes a bite.

They talk about the case, Sam, Claire, the bunker, and anything they need to catch each other up on from the two days Cas has been gone. And then Dean can't stall any longer. It's getting increasingly difficult not to blurt things out, demand that Cas really talk to him. This sense that he's keeping something from him has been brewing for weeks, and Dean can't help worrying whatever it is will become unfixable if he leaves it any longer.

He watches Cas climb back in the car and gives himself a moment before getting in himself, demanding to himself that he tries.

"Alright, Cas," Dean says, idling the engine for a second after they've driven just a couple of miles, turning the key and listening to the roar of silence that follows before sitting back in his seat and shifting to get comfortable. "Talk to me."

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Dean—"

"I mean it," Dean says, turning a little more so he's really looking at Cas. So he can monitor his every expression and know if he's fumbling over his words.

"I—"

"You've been quiet. For days now, Cas. _Weeks_ , even. Even when it's just _us_. You're... scaring me a little."

"Why would that scare you?" Cas asks, eyes wide in obvious surprise.

"Because," Dean says with a soft sigh, "you and me; we used to talk about… well. We used to talk about everything, all the time, Cas."

"Not always," Cas replies with that wistful smile that Dean thinks he's been seeing a little too much, "there were many times when you and I didn't talk about anything at all."

"Yeah, well. I always _wanted_ to talk to you, Cas. I always—I always hope you feel like you _can_ talk to me. We're _family_ , Cas."

It's not the reaction Dean expects seeing Cas' face crumple up in either frustration, or exasperation, or for words that he doesn't want to hear.

"I mean—"

"You _are_ my family," Cas agrees, sighing, his eyes dropping away in doubt as though he has no idea what to say.

"Then, talk to me. Please," Dean says, smiling when Cas looks up. "I gotta bribe you with beer, or shots or something to make you talk?"

"I don't think that’s wise," Cas tells him with a quick glance out through the windshield. "We are now quite literally in the middle of nowhere."

Dean turns and looks out at the wide expanse of _nothing_ around them and silently agrees. "Well. You've… Cas, you can't tell me you're not thinking _something_. You've… _something's_ going on with you."

"I don't—"

"I'm not saying it's anything bad," Dean adds, holding up his hand to stop him. "I just think… Cas. If something's bothering you? Or… I don't know. Worrying you? I… I hope you know you can talk to me. About anything."

Cas stares back at him, and as it always does, the intensity of it steals Dean's breath. Dean never intends to stare back like he does but he can't help it, can't force himself to look away from Cas. Again Dean thinks Cas is going to avoid talking to him, and he's about to get exasperated, turn back and set off telling Cas to forget it, and drive in silence down unknown, moonlit roads until they return to the motel with nothing resolved between them.

"There are… numerous things that I am _thinking_ , Dean," Cas says just at the point when Dean is physically turning from him.

"So. Pick one. We'll start there."

Cas stares at him again, and Dean forces himself to keep looking. If Cas has got as far as admitting he's got something on his mind then he's going to hear him out. Dean tells himself to be patient, watching a ripple of different emotions across his face, and pleads with Cas to find the words he needs to speak to him.

"Dean. When I was in the Empty, it was… unlike anything I have ever experienced before."

Dean nods, surprised as well as unsurprised that _this_ is one of the things Cas has been thinking about. "Well, that figures."

"I _died_ , Dean."

"Yeah, you did, Cas. And it was… it was hell," Dean replies, forcing himself to keep looking when all he wants to do is close his eyes. It's a novelty now, closing them and not seeing Cas' prone form laid out before him, or wrapped up in a torn down curtain, or seeing his body being devoured by flames. He almost _lost_ Cas, Dean reminds himself even though he won't ever forget it, constantly furious that for all his talk of letting _Cas_ talk, _he_ never gets out the things he wants to tell _him_. Even if he promised himself if he ever got Cas back, he would.

"But this wasn't like the other times I was… gone," Cas adds, frowning a little, and the tone of his voice focuses Dean's mind a little sharper.

"How come?"

"I wasn't aware the other times. I didn't… there was no pause between me being _gone_ , and being _back_. In the Empty, I was aware. I was aware of everything."

"Like what?" Dean asks because he's kind of lost, but Cas needs to keep talking about this.

"Other beings. Other realities. _My_ reality, I suppose—"

"In what way?"

"Memories, Dean. Things that I've… either denied to myself or never acknowledged."

That could mean pretty much anything, Dean thinks but doesn't push it, doesn't let himself get his hopes up or think too far ahead. "Like what?"

"Many things," Cas says.

"Alright. But what about?"

"Heaven. Earth. Everything in between."

 _Okay_ , Dean thinks, _now you're just being deliberately vague._ He wants to call Cas out on it but also knows he has no room to talk. "Well—"

"But specifically, about me. My choices."

Dean waits to see if there's more coming because that doesn't sound too specific at all. But he lets it drop, watching Cas sigh to himself and stare once more out over the road.

"For the longest time I felt like I was failing," Cas says after another long pause, continuing to stare forward.

"Failing?" Dean asks with a shake of his head. "Failing who?"

"You? Me? Everybody?"

"Why would you think that?" Dean asks with a dry, confused laugh, one that Cas doesn't seem to appreciate hearing.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Look, Cas; not one of us doesn't screw up at some point. It's just… it's just _living_ , you know?"

"But I wasn't created to _screw up_ ," Cas retorts, his voice clipped in a little frustration.

"Yeah, well. Tough. It's just the way it is, okay? Don't be so—"

"Dean—"

"And as for failing _me_ , or _us_ ; you got that wrong," Dean adds, loathing every time he's ever said a single word that would make Cas feel like that. "When have you done that?"

"For starters, the Leviathan. Crowley—"

"How many times did I ended up working with _Crowley,_  huh, Cas?"

"I couldn't help you with the Mark—"

"But you _did_ help me with the Mark—"

"And Amara. Lucifer. Kelly—"

"Cas," Dean says, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, "you gotta… why are you being so hard on yourself about all this stuff?"

Cas looks away again, this time down at his own lap, and Dean watches him in profile not knowing what to think.

"Cas—"

"I told you I needed a _win_ , Dean," Cas says, that look of _please understand me_ in his eyes that Dean's never been too good at receiving for how much it _hurts_ when he doesn't understand.

"I know—"

"Every time I got close to doing something _good_ , _getting_ that win, I messed up."

"Cas, you—"

"Dean," Cas says, sighing and slumping further back in his seat, "lately—at least, before I _died_ —"

Dean flinches for yet another reminder of Cas being lost to him, but holds himself enough together not to stop Cas from continuing talking.

"—it seemed like every decision I ever made, whatever good I intended, every single thing I ever did went wrong. I tried to help and it caused nothing but chaos. I took a step back, and everything collapsed. And every time I had even a moment to think about all that I've done, both here, and in Heaven, and for… so many things, all I knew was that I had _failed_. Everyone. And everything."

Dean swallows back the lump in his throat and squeezes his shoulder again. "Cas. Remember when… man, I don't even know where to start."

"Dean?"

Dean laughs, groans, and wants to yell at himself all at the same time. "I was gonna… I was gonna give you an example of all the times _I_ messed up or made a decision that went straight to hell. But there's just… so damn many of them."

"They were well-intended—"

"And yours weren't?" Dean says with another burst of laughter, pleased that when he raises an eyebrow and Cas' eyes land on it, it at least makes him smile a little. "Cas. I'm not saying we both haven't screwed up majorly with… well, all kindsa stuff. But you gotta… it's not all on you to do everything right first time, you know? We have… sometimes you just have to keep trying. Make a decision, deal with the fallout, move on to the next one. It's not… you can't keep blaming yourself for every bad thing in the world, Cas. It's not… it's not _good_ for you. And it's not even true."

Cas nods at that, and gives another small, wistful smile, and Dean barely about resists leaning across the gap between them to kiss the look off his face. Barely.

"Cas—"

"But what I was going to say, is that… waking in the Empty—being _aware_ in the Empty—it gave me ample time to consider all of these… infractions, and… errors of judgment. Poor choices that I've made."

"Time work differently up in the Empty, Cas?" Dean blurts out, wanting to kick himself for choosing _now_ to be curious about such a thing when he's finally got Cas talking to him.

"Yes," Cas replies, his eyes darting away, "I have no idea how long it would be compared with time here on Earth, only that it was longer. _Much_ longer."

"Okay—"

"And as I was aware, and thinking. And then _taunted_ by that—"

"This thing that looked like you, but wasn't you?" Dean asks, remembering every tiny detail of what Cas _has_ shared with him about the Empty, even if he doesn't feel like it's nearly enough.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And," Cas says with a hard, heavy sigh, "I realized, I suppose, that I am not the sum of all my mistakes. I _have_ failed people, over and over, and there are times when I am certain I have _lost_ more than I have ever _won_."

Dean wants to answer, to tell him it isn't true, but he understands exactly where Cas is coming from and doesn't know how to reach him on this.

"And that _entity_ , they helped me with that," Cas tells him, with a tiny frown touching his brow. "He kept reminding me that I wasn't wanted—"

"Cas—"

"That I wasn't needed, and that… so much of what I have done is _wrong_. But then I… just at the point when I was about to give in to everything, to admit that there was no purpose for me anywhere, I realized I was _awake_."

Dean doesn't know what to do with that either, doesn't know how to respond to it, so just nods to encourage Cas to keep talking.

"I realized," Cas repeats, frowning a little harder, "that I _did_ have purpose. That I _was_ wanted, and needed, and that I can still find ways to redeem myself. That I have already done much to redeem myself. And that I would be doing myself, and everyone I care about an injustice, by _not_ continuing to keep going. To keep… _fighting_."

Dean's heart is racing just a little too hard at the thought of Cas giving up on anything. He's struck again with the idea that he's clueless about what to do here, but once more squeezes Cas' shoulder, smiling when he looks at him.

"I'm… glad you realized that, Cas. That I… that _we_ need you here, and with us, more than anything else. More than any damn _win_."

Cas smiles, lets out a soft sigh and nods back, moving as though he's about to turn back around in his seat.

"Cas wait."

Dean grips his shoulder a little tighter to stop Cas from moving, and turns a more little towards him, gesturing for Cas to do the same. Cas has finally opened up a little about this when Dean's been needling at him ever since he got back to him. There have been snippets of conversations, and, Dean admits, poor efforts on his part on numerous occasions of trying to get Cas to talk. But maybe what the problem is here is not Cas not talking, but _him_.

"Cas," Dean says, dragging his hand back to rest in his lap, the weight of all he has to say making him tremble, and wanting to try to disguise it. As long as he can. "I… we talked about this a couple times, but… when I left you in Purgatory—"

"Dean—"

"I couldn't… I still don't really forgive myself for that."

"Dean," Cas smiles, shaking his head, "that was my choice. My decision, to atone for—"

"And all the times I yelled at _you_ for working with Crowley," Dean adds, rolling his eyes and groaning to himself for being such a hypocrite.

"Crowley was a… we never knew precisely where his loyalties would lie."

"Well that's bull," Dean snorts, "Crowley's priorities were always looking after number one. But it wasn't like… he helped us more than he didn't, you know? And I didn't… I don't think he ever really got that we appreciated him for all that. I wish I… I should've found a way to tell him."

 _I should_ , Dean curses himself, but now is not the time for regrets about _Crowley_ , now is the time to do all he can to reach _Cas_.

"Anyway," he says, shifting a little, "between Purgatory, and with Crowley, and… I kicked you out the bunker when you needed us most, Cas."

Dean will never, ever forgive himself for that, nor ever be able to forget the look on Cas' face for telling him to leave. It haunts him when he's trying to sleep and rises up to taunt him during the day as well at times when he's feeling guilty for something he's said or done to Cas.

"You had good reasons—"

"But they _weren't_ good reasons, not really," Dean says, shaking his head, "and it's… for you to sit there and be… I don't know, Cas; mad at yourself for all these _reasons_ you had for doing… all kindsa things. You can't just let me off on all the things _I've_ done if you can't do the same for yourself."

"That is… easier said than done," Cas replies, smiling softly, and Dean basks in the affection of it for a few seconds before demanding to himself that he gets to his point.

"And I… I'm not always honest with you, Cas," he manages to blurt out, cursing his poor choice of words for the way it freezes Cas' expression. "I mean; I'm not always as… sometimes I don't tell you everything I'm meaning when I… when I tell you anything at all."

 _This is a disaster_ , Dean groans internally, he's getting this all wrong, all his thoughts and words are coming out convoluted, and there's only going to be so many chances for him to get this right.

"Cas," he says, a little sharper than intended for his desperation to keep talking, "I… I don't think I… I _know_ that… when we got you back, I—you know how pleased I was you were back, right? How… you know I wanted you back with us, and we… getting you back pulled me back from the ledge of… so many things."

Cas blinks, barely nods in acknowledgement of what he's just said to him.

 _No_ , Dean curses himself, _this isn't enough_ , _nowhere near enough_.


	4. Chapter 4

"Cas," Dean says, releasing the grip of his fingers against his own thigh and slowly reaching out for Cas' hand. Cas looks down at their fingers slotted together against his leg then back up at Dean, his expression unreadable.

Everything Dean wants to get out fights its way up to be said first, and he needs a few seconds before he can get them in an order that might make sense.

"What I didn't tell you—what I should've told you—what I'm… kicking myself for not making more clear," Dean adds, gritting his teeth for how much he's rambling, "I was… when you were gone, I was… I was lost without you. I grieved for you. I _prayed_ for you. I… I _missed_ you, Cas. More than I… Cas; I couldn't function without you. I couldn't… I couldn't sleep, couldn't think. I spent all my time drowning everything out with music, or crap I couldn't even really watch on TV, or… I started drinking again; real bad, like… before."

Cas nods but doesn't say anything, perhaps sensing that Dean has all these things he needs to get out.

"I thought I'd lost you, Cas," Dean says, his voice cracking, and realizing he doesn't care if Cas hears it.

He doesn't need to pretend about anything with Cas, he's never needed to. Why he's even trying to now after everything suddenly seems as ridiculous as Dean knows it is.

"I was broken without you, Cas. I didn't… I didn't care if I lived or died, if I got hurt, or not. Hell, I didn't even really care too much about what happened to anyone else at all either. I was… _lost_ , Cas. And I needed… I kept telling myself that _I_ needed a win."

"Dean—"

"You were my win, Cas," Dean says, his words now really coming out broken, "you were. You changed everything I was feeling—or _not_ feeling—on its head, the second we got you back. I could… waking up stopped feeling like I was back on the rack in Hell. I wanted to… I wanted to _do_ things, _go_ places. When I spent almost all the time you were gone in my room. Sam had to… Sam used some pretty sneaky tactics to convince me to go on any cases, I can tell you."

"Perhaps he was worried about you," Cas suggests.

"He was," Dean agrees, "and right up to the point where we got you back, I didn't care that he was. I didn't care that… mom was gone, or Jack was… whatever Jack was. I just… I was so _angry_ at Jack, 'cos he was… everything I lost felt like it was because of him. I blamed him for losing you."

"Dean—"

"And I promised myself when you were gone, that if I ever got lucky enough to get you back then I'd be more open with you, and honest; like we keep telling each other we're gonna be," Dean adds, squeezing his hand. "But I keep… I keep messing up, Cas. I keep stumbling over my words, saying _we_ when I really mean _me_. _I_ needed you back. _I_ missed you. _I_ can't be without you, or deal with the idea of you being _gone_."

Dean sucks in a shaky breath to stop the words rattling out of him unchecked, even though he has so many other things he has to say.

"It's _me_ that wrapped you up in that damned curtain and carried you out to that pyre," he adds, tears spilling from his eyes and doing nothing to stop them. "It's _me_ that hated Jack for doing anything at all that reminded me of you—of even just _talking_ about you like he had any right to, when I didn't think he did. _Me_ that couldn't deal with you being gone, Cas. I'm not saying no one else cares, or didn't miss you, 'cos they did, and they do. But I… Cas; _I'm_ the one that… it's _me_ that loves you. Me that… I mean, _they_ love you too, but it's not like—"

"Dean—"

"I _love_ you, Cas," Dean blurts out, trembling as he backhands away some of his tears for how hard they're blurring his vision. " _I_ love you. I've loved you for… you know how long."

Cas smiles at him, reaches up with their joined hands and thumbs away some of Dean's tears himself. "I do."

"And you know I suck at telling you it even when I mean it so much. I mean it all the time."

"I do," Cas agrees, his smile a little wider, a little more affectionate, and damn, Dean really needs to see it now.

"I love you, Cas," Dean says, the sentiment coming out ugly for all the cracks in his voice. But Cas seems pleased to hear it anyway. Raises their hands again and kisses the back of Dean's, squeezing it to get his attention.

"As I love you. As _you_ know I have done for the longest time," he says, and it's enough to put a little breath back in Dean's lungs, turning him even further in his seat and leaning closer, resting his free hand on Cas' waist.

"I do. I do know."

"Dean. You perhaps don't say these things out loud, but I often hear them. I can't avoid hearing them. And I admit," he says, leaning a little further forward himself so he can press his forehead against Dean's temple, "sometimes it is difficult hearing the… conflict between what you are thinking, and what you are telling me out loud."

"Cas—"

"But I understand it," Cas tells him, sweeping his fingers up Dean's arm to settle just above his elbow. "I do. I don't like the things that have led you to be so… guarded with your emotions. But I cannot blame you for something that I can be just as guilty of myself."

"Yeah, but I reckon I'm the one that _taught_ you how to be like that," Dean says, shuffling closer until he can drop his face into Cas' neck. He doesn't want to be like this, wants to be free to be open, and honest, and more loving with Cas. But there's always _something_ in the back of his head telling him why he can't, and Dean loathes that he ever gives this thing a voice when everything it's telling him Dean knows to be wrong.

"Then it is something that we should unlearn together."

"I didn't… I'm sorry I didn't make it easier for you to talk to me about any of this, Cas," Dean says, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as he pulls back to look at him, curling one hand around the nape of his neck as he still grips tight to the other. "I'm sorry I… ever since you got back I've been waiting for you to talk to me. When I should've… maybe I'd have made all this easier if I'd just… if I'd found a way to talk to _you_."

"This is not all on you."

"No," Dean agrees, "but you've been back _weeks_ now. I can't… all this stuff you're now telling me about the Empty, and all these things you've been thinking about yourself. I should've… I should've tried harder to get you to talk. Or to _help_ you talk, or something."

"I don't know that I was completely ready to talk," Cas tells him, sweeping his hand further up his arm and settling it between Dean's shoulder blades, tugging him a little closer.

"But you've been… this stuff has been bugging you for days. _Weeks_ , Cas."

"I wanted… I suppose I was trying to find the right time to talk about it."

"Always. The right time is _always_ if you wanna talk to me, Cas. I need you to… please remember that."

Cas nods, sliding his hand up to cup the back of Dean's neck before pulling back with a soft sigh. "Okay."

"Cas—"

"When I came back, I also made myself some promises, Dean."

"Like what?" Dean says, wiping away some fresh tears but not pulling too far from him. In fact, he thinks, he's still a little too far. Dean slides across the seat to close the tiny gap between them and wraps his arm around Cas' shoulders, relaxing when he wriggles back against him to get comfortable.

"Like, I wouldn't hold back from telling you you're being an _ass_ when you steal all the bed covers when I stay with you."

Dean tries to hold in a burst of laughter but can't, and presses a kiss against the side of Cas' head. He thinks it's deliberate, Cas' choice of words, because when Cas turns a little to look at him, his expression is a pleased one.

"Dude. You're an angel. I didn't think you could _get_ cold."

"Of course I can get cold. The question is, should a human male of your age have such poor circulation that his feet resemble blocks of ice?"

Dean snorts into Cas' neck and hides there for a second before he can sit back up, smiling hard when he does.

"So, aside from telling me I'm a cover hog, what else did you plan on telling me?"

Cas nods to himself as though he is expecting this very question, which, Dean supposes, he must be. "I promised myself that I would take more time to do things simply because I wanted to do them, instead of only doing the things I believed I had to."

"Like, visiting Claire?"

"Yes. But also just… taking moments; pausing, really. _Thinking_ between our never-ending tasks."

"Well," Dean says, "that sounds like good advice for anyone."

"It does."

"But that's not all of it right?" Dean asks, because there has to be more to what has put Cas in this pensive mood.

"No," Cas agrees, "that's not all of it."

"Then… talk to me, Cas."

Cas nods, and Dean watches in silence for him to figure out what he needs to tell him.

"I promised myself that we— _I_ —would get better, or try harder, at… talking to you. Us talking to one another," Cas tells him, frowning to himself as he does.

"About?" Dean asks as he presses a kiss to his temple, starting to realize what Cas has been thinking about.

"Everything. Anything. But I suppose, what feels like the most important things that concern us. Privately."

Dean nods slowly, wishes he was the kind of person who could so easily give Cas that. It's true that he's given so much of himself to Cas that he's never given to other people, revealed more of his secrets to him than he has to anyone he knows. But he still gets stuck on the hard stuff sometimes; like talking about _feelings_ , and specific wants and needs that would make so many things that much easier between them.

"Like?" he says anyway, because he's a coward, and as much as he wants to try he needs just a little more encouragement so he's certain what Cas is talking about.

"I would like… that is, I _need_ for us to stop hesitating when there is something we need each other to know. To stop… I suppose for us to stop overthinking our words, or… fearing the consequences of them."

"Okay," Dean says, "I mean. We can try. _I_ can—"

"When I tried to talk to you about the fact that I was dead. That I… that I needed to believe I had been brought back for a reason—"

"I needed to say more than it was because we _needed_ you for something," Dean finishes for him, groaning out loud. "Cas—"

"I am sure neither of us are the kind of people that need constant… reminders of what we are to one another," Cas adds, sighing hard enough for it to ripple where he's pressed against Dean, "because I already know that you love me, Dean. As you know that I love you."

"I do," Dean tells him, "and I do know that." And because it's impossible not to touch him, Dean drops his head back on Cas' shoulder for a moment, sighing there until he can sit back up.

"But I do think," Cas adds, sighing a little, "I think—"

"I think maybe we need to remind each other from time to time that we _do_ mean something to each other," Dean replies, knowing that it's right.

"I think so," Cas says, though he's looking away again. Dean reaches out to turn his face back and smiles when he lifts his gaze.

"You did come back for a reason, Cas. You came back for a whole bunch of reasons. 'Cos you're… important to a lot of people, in a lot of different ways."

"I—"

"But you came back, mostly because _I_ need you. Because _I_ want you here. And because… honestly? I've forgotten how to be without you. And I need you to know that you're important to me—to all of us—not just for all the stuff you can do for us. You're important to _me_ , Cas, because I _need_ you here with me. Only for that reason. That's… that's a big enough reason for you to be back all on its own."

Cas swallows suspiciously hard, but Dean can't help be relieved to see him smiling through it.

"Perhaps I shouldn't have needed to hear that," Cas says ruefully, turning until their foreheads are pressed together.

"Cas. You shouldn't have even needed to _ask_. I should've… I should've told you that long before now. Out loud, with whole words that you… couldn't have mistaken for meaning anything else."

"Dean—"

"And I know I don't say it enough. I _never_ say it enough, but I always mean it. I always want to say it," Dean adds, shaking and hating himself for it, because this is such a simple word, a simple request, that is so important. And he means it, possibly more than he means anything else.

"What, Dean?"

Dean's breath shudders out of him as he tries to form that word into something he can say out loud. "Wherever you go. Whenever you leave us, Cas—whenever you leave _me_. All I ever want you to do is stay. I _always_ want you to stay. _Always_ , Cas."

Cas smiles back, his eyes beginning to well up, and his breath too starting to shudder out. "Dean—"

"Stay with me, Cas. I want you to... I always want you to stay with me. That thing about all this being your home, Cas?" Dean adds as he gestures out the windshield, willing his voice not to break any more than it is already doing. "It _is_ your home; all of this is. But your home is also with me— _us_. You belong with us, Cas. You never... your home is _always_ with me."

And because Cas' jaw is now trembling, and Dean's filled with such relief for _finally_ saying some of what he's thinking, he turns a fraction more towards him, leaning in for a kiss that he closes his eyes for, immediately hit with a sense of calm.

Cas turns and shuffles a little closer still, his fingers curling around Dean's waist beneath his jacket, letting out his own relieved sigh. Dean tugs him a little closer thinking that for all his talk of Cas' home being with _him_ , Cas has become _his_ home. His anchor, and constant, for so many things.

"Are we good, Cas?" Dean asks when he pulls back at him, with Cas smiling so hard Dean needs to lean in and kiss him again.

"We are _always_ good, Dean."

"Kinda wish we were here just you and me, and we weren't on a case, and we were just _going_ somewhere 'cos we feel like it," Dean sighs, sliding his fingers through the back of Cas' hair to keep him close. It's always calmed him just to be able to hold Cas like that, free to touch however he wants when they're on their own.

"That would be good," Cas replies, nuzzling against his cheek. "Perhaps sometime soon."

"Kinda wish you and me'd got our own room back at the motel," Dean adds, his stomach giving a soft jolt for the look in Cas' eyes.

"I'll message Sam," Cas says, squeezing Dean's side again before slipping back more into his own seat, already reaching for his phone. "But perhaps we can drive for a little longer. I like the quiet here with you."

"Quiet coming right up," Dean replies, secretly pleased for the return of something they used to do together before Cas had been _gone_. Just the two of them alone in the Impala and driving for hours, with Cas' hand firmly clasped in his own against his thigh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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